Just get me some coffee, Neal
by JosieStyle
Summary: Two-shot. Peter is a little moody this morning and snatched Neal's coffee out of his hand and drinks it halfway. Then he dropped it in the trashcan, ordering he should be get to work, now! What's with that? Neal didn't do anything, yet. CHAPTER 2 IS UP COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1

"Neal? Does this coffee taste funny to you?" Peter asked with a furrowed face. He sure had a long day ahead. And he desperately _needed_ that dark fuel. Especially this day! This… long… long day.

"Nope. But that's because I don't drink this coffee. I got mine across the street," Neal said. With a smirk on his face he watched the older man take another well intentioned sip, only to spit it back out again in his favorite mug. His face grimacing in progress.

"Yug. It tastes like eggs." sighing, Peter had put his mug down onto the table and looked suspiciously at his CI. "What did you do, Neal?" Neal, who was sitting on someone's desk, near the coffee machine, raised an eyebrow at him in question.

"What? You blaming me for that sordid coffee, too? Very mature," he said with a disapproving look.

_Mature,_ Peter thought with a annoyed growl.

"Fine. You are nicely tense with your snarky comments, so. Give me yours, instead. I needed it more that you do." He snatched the paper cup out of Neal's hand and took a long sip.

"Hey! Peter! Did your mother never learn you some manners? Gee."

"Don't start with me, Caffrey. Just need another sip and you will get it back."

_Caffrey? _Neal blinked up at him._ Why did Peter called him by his last name all of the sudden? _For the first time this early morning Neal took in his boss's appearance. The older man looked dog-tired. He never looked that way. Never.

"Don't sweat it. Keep it. I don't like it when other people get their lips on my cup anyway. With all their germs and stuff. Especially when they're sick. Presuming you are. Do you feel okay?"

And Peter just shot him a stern look. Causing Neal to shrug innocently.

"Just saying, Peter. You looked like a truck run you over." Peter's face turned a little grey from exasperation. But he didn't back away when Neal inched a little closer to look deeper in his eyes.

"Seriously, Peter. My life is in your hands at all times. I need to know. Are you sick?"

There was a uncomfortable silence. Some of the agents walked by them and mumbled about a partner fight. It was very common around here. Because the work pressure was always high. Eventually Peter gave up his stern gaze. The blue deep eyes of his partner were too much.

"No. I'm not sick, Neal. But I'm getting there if you don't get back to work, _now_." He firmly smashed the half empty paper cup in to the trashcan and stride away through his office. Leaving a slightly stunned conman behind.

"Okay. Don't need to shout, man."

…

First of all: there was a monstrous stack on his desk made of rapport files that needed to be looked over and signed by him. And he wouldn't usually whine about that, because he simply loved his job.

And second: he didn't had a good night of sleep.

But that was all.

Really!

Peter looked at the files and gave a deep sigh. With a thud he put some files next to his desk so he could at least sit behind it. By the time he started to read he noticed that his vision was a little blurred. Blinking hard he sat back on his chair and rubbed his eyes. "Great," he muttered. "Maybe I am starting to get tired… or sick… or wathever." Sighing again he stood up from his chair and walked through the platform.

His vision was back to normal again but he still needed Dianna to help him with the huge stack. Just help him with a small amount of reading work. That's all. Hughes doesn't have to know. He wasn't even working this day, after all.

"Dianna?" he yelled. Surprised to see she still wasn't in the office yet. She never was late. All right then. Maybe Jones will help me. He is a good friend. And he isn't afraid to make an exception, even though it is against the rules.

"Jones? A help over here," he said. But Jones also wasn't at his desk, yet.

"Peter? Need a hand? I'm done with mine, so if you need a hand, or something. I would like to help, if that's okay?" Neal answered with another thick and done rapport under his arm. "Also, you need to sign this right away. Deadline." Neal smirked when he came up to his boss. Peter didn't retain him when Neal pressed the file in his chest and made his way into his office. The chair where he usually sat in was occupied with even more files and the younger man held back a chuckle.

"Nice fort you got. I can see why your so upset this morning." Peter closed his door and dropped his shoulders tiredly.

"I know. I'm sorry about that earlier. Didn't get much sleep."

"Ow I can see that," Neal nodded concerned. He had taken his place on to his chair and had put the files on his lap.

"Let me work these over, for ya. Will that help? I swear I'll only look over them and let you sign it yourself." His big blue eyes were locked on Peter's brown ones and Peter finally gave a nod.

"Deal. Only read them over and put them on this side of the table so that I can sign them." Peter was so glad he had help he almost laughed out loud. But Neal seemed to bust him.

"Let's get started then." He gave his famous smile and the both got too work.

…

A hour later, and fifty rapports away, Peter's vision started to blur again and he sat back in his chair. He even started to feel lightheaded.

"Neal… We can take a break if you want," he said, despairingly hiding his dizziness. But Neal already suspected something and took in Peter's shades of grey.

"Sure. Of course, Peter. Would you like me to get some coffee from across the street? It's no problem. I could use some fresh air. Maybe a bagel, too." He jumped up from his chair end straightened his back. Peter dropped his pencil on the desk and gave a quiet nod.

"Go ahead. Get a latté for me, this time. I'm in the creamy mood." Neal nodded and before he left he watched his partner shrink away from the bright sunlight. "Hey, you okay?" he asked nearing the door. Peter gave a uncertain nod and got back in his chair, blinking hard.

"Wow, You sure?" again Peter gave a nod. Although, his face was getting paler.

"Liar," Neal shot back. Within two paces he stood a front of him and looked Peter in the eyes. "What's going on with you? And why are you so stubborn? Are you having a fight with Elizabeth or something?" At that Peter growled at him.

"No. Of course not. She has nothing to do with it." Neal jerked back at the loud tone.

"Okay, man. Whatever you say."

"She doesn't, Neal. That's the whole point." Neal frowned. He saw in Peter's eyes that there was more.

"What do you mean?"

"I-I… Neal… Promise me that you aren't gonna laugh nor tell this to anyone!" Neal quickly made a gesture of sealing his mouth shut as a promise.

"I sometimes have trouble sleeping." Neal raced an eyebrow. "You mean like nightmares?" Peter rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"No.. But.. Yes. Kinda." He gave a sigh and rubbed his stinging red rimmed eyes again. The older man didn't actually know how to put this. So he just went on.

"I only have them when I'm alone in bed. I dream of her getting killed or kidnapped by some mean fellow. Man. I even dreamt of you last night. Being shot and bloody. Dying in my arms, and all."

There was a weird kind of tension between them. One that almost felt like someone was about to collapse in the other ones arms, crying like a upset child. But Neal did know how he must react to ease up the atmosphere.

"Well… You know what they say about those nightmares. They are not real."

"But they sure feel like. They surely did last night."

Neal thought about what Peter said yesterday morning. Elizabeth was going out of town for a client meeting. That evening Peter came by to have a drink. Hang out like buds. Everything fell into place. _Peter was afraid to be alone?_ Maybe the stress did a number on him. All those cases he had done with him weren't exactly easy. They hadn't got one single day off since Neal was working with him. Maybe Peter needed some relieve. From him and his work.

He didn't know how to react to this problem so he just kindly laughed at him. Peter just looked at him with a frown.

"Just get me some coffee, Neal."

And so he went.

…

When Neal got back with a tray of coffee and two bagels he found his boss sleeping behind his desk. His head leaned heavily on a pile of files and his mouth hung open while he snored peacefully. With a soft smile, Neal soundlessly took his place back to the chair and started working again. Eager to help his friend out. Of course as quit as he could.

Screw this, He even counterfeit some of the signatures also. Sometimes that's how everyone does it. No one is around on time, with the big boss free at home, anyway.

…

The end:3

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_A/N: Just a small one-shot thingy too kill some time. Hope you liked it. And I know. No plot or anything good. And of course: Bad grammatics. I'am Dutch and still learning to write better. Please tell me what you think. It means a lot. _

_X_

_Josie_


	2. Chapter 2

When Peter heard a thud, he jumped awake, almost regretting that sudden movement by the stiffness in his neck. For a second he didn't know where he was and why the hell he had fallen asleep like that.

"Well, Peter. What can I say? You owe me big-time, man," he heard a familiar voice. The smell of ink and musty air, reminded him of his office and when he blinked up at the smirking face of his partner he immediately grew suspicious. "Neal. What have you done? Am I going to regret this?" He straightened his back as he took in the big pile of files on his desk. Then he looked at his still smirking CI.

"Depends on how you like to do your work all by yourself."

Peter gave a deep sigh as he took in the big stack of files, all folded up nicely and probably all done by Neal's hand.

"You did this," his sentence sounded more like a question than a remark. Causing Neal to twitch his lips.

"I sure did."

For a moment Peter just stared at his cleaned desk and picked one file from the stack. Only to see his signature placed on the spot where it should be. The older man gritted his teeth in irritation. He dropped the file back on top and ran a hand over his face.

"Neal. You just forged my signature. How does that make me owe you?" With an underappreciated glance he looked at the younger man whose smile just disappeared from his face.

"Peter? What's wrong with you? You slept like a baby this entire morning. And the first thing you do is telling me that I did something very wrong? I only did this for you. So that you could take a day off." His big blue eyes stared at him. And Peter saw some hurt in his eyes. He hurt him. So Peter gave up on his stern posture and leaned back on his chair.

"Okay, Neal. I am sorry. You're right. I appreciate what you have done for me. But first of all, as a caretaker I must tell a CI what's good and what's not." Neal snorted at that.

"And as a friend?" Peter held up his arms to show him his surrender.

"And second, a CI can't tell his caretaker to go home for a break. Even if I have to admit It's very…. _very_ temping right now." As Peter watched his CI walk a step away from him he immediately felt the cold gab between them. He had made his partner upset.

"Okay, Peter. You know what? Just stop with your little teaching-class, okay? I only meant it as an advice. I was concerned about you, alright." When a slightly upset Neal turned at the door to walk away Peter stopped him by pooling at his wrist. In shock by this sudden grip Neal turned around. His eyes were big and sharp as a knife. It startled Peter a little.

"Look, Neal… Just stop. I know I know. I am the reason of this weird kind of tension between us. And I am very sorry. But you didn't get my point. Because I wasn't finished." Neal now was the one who looked suspicious.

"First let me go and I am listening," he said quietly. Peter gave him a kindly nod and pooled back. He knew Neal was always like that when Peter grabbed him. He was just like the cat he had used to have when he was a child. The sweet cat, named _Ober _because of his black and white look-a-like-suit, loved being cuddled by him. But every time he picked him up from the ground he growled like a bloodthirsty monster. Scratching his skin with his sharp paws, until little _me_ had dropped him.

Peter smiled at this odd memory while Neal still was waiting for his sentence to finish.

"What I meant to say was: _as a caretaker of a CI I must tell you these things._ Not only to annoy you. But also to tell you that all the mistakes you make are also my responsibilities."

"Bastard," Neal muttered.

"But that wasn't really the real point. I wanted you to know that as a friend, what you did this morning was very nice. And I appreciate that." Peter held up his arms as peace offering.

Neal let out a deep sigh.

"Well. Alright then. I accept your apology. As a _CI_. But as a _friend_ you at least have to buy me a Cookie." When he smiled at the older man Peter gave a relieved sigh.

"Well, let's go then. Since that latté has turned cold and all." He pointed at the paper cup on his table.

…

When they came back from the coffee stand they run into Dianna. She still had her jacked on and looked like she half expected a snarky remark from Neal or at least one adverse observation from her boss. But both men just smiled. "Hey, guys. Sorry I'm late." Her eyelids closed a bit when she took in the two of them. There was an unfamiliar grin on her face, like she had discovered something funny about them. Neal already felt uncomfortable. _Something was going on. And he couldn't place it quite yet._

"Hey, Dianna, what's up?" Peter said kindly. She nodded to both, him and Neal.

"Good. All things considering. Just arrived here. Some agents told me to check up on you two. They were telling me you two were fighting this morning." She looked at both men perfectly happy with each other. "I thought they were messing with me. And it looks like I'm right." Neal relaxed at that.

"You are right as rain, Dian'. Peter and I _never_ fight."

"You are sure? You two often look like an old married couple, to me sometimes," she snorted back at the blue eyed man. Neal smirked.

"Speaking of yours, how is Christy?"

"We aren't married, Neal. Nice try."

Then Dianna saw her boss stiff a yawn.

"Peter, my God. You look awful. Didn't you get any sleep tonight? You look like-,"

"Yeah yeah, like a truck run me over. I know. Do I really look that bad?"

Nobody dared to answer that one.

"Alright. Fine."

With a moan he walked through the mensroom.

For a moment Dianna and Neal looked at each other. Dianna suspected that Neal knew something about Peter and Neal was trying hard not to let that show on him. Sure. That wasn't a problem for him. He could lie to anyone. But when he was with Dianna he always felt a little uneasy. Maybe because she was the smartest person he knew. Next to Peter, of course.

"Stop staring at me like that. It's kinda creepy. Even for you."

"You're the one that stares at me, pal. Beat it _pretty face_. Go pick someone's wallet or something. So I can arrest you. That game never gets old." It was meant like a joke. They both laughed.

They waited for a long time. But Peter didn't return. After another ten minutes Neal also walked in to the mensroom.

Peter was standing a front of the mirror. His eyes were closed as he downed his tie a bit. His face was splashed with water. Some of the drops trickled down in his neck. When Peter had opened his eyes again he got startled by seeing Neal standing behind him, busting him on this rare moment of weakness.

"Neal. What are you doing?" Peter's voice was soft and a little annoyed. Neal blinked his eyes at him and all he could do was smile.

"Checking up on you. Let me tell ya. I'm slightly relieved that you weren't puking in here." Peter gave a sigh as he turned to him. He had seen himself in the mirror. He looked horrible. He could understand the Concerns over him. So he gave up his stubbornness.

"Yeah. About that. Thanks for taking care of me this morning. I think I want to go home, now. El would be coming home this evening. I want to look sharp and rested. Is that okay with you? You could stay here with Dianna. There always cases going on. Maybe you are going to enjoy that."

Neal gave a nod. He was glad Peter was going home. But he didn't think Dianna would him stalking her around.

"Yeah, Sure man. Drive safe. See you tomorrow."

…

Late that night Neal was getting ready to go under when he suddenly heard some nock at the door. Frowning confused he called two names who he thought it could be. But he was answered with an unexpected and yet recognizable voice.

"Peter?" He put on his slippers and opened the door in question. There he stood. The smartest _agent_ and _friend_ he knew in his life. Soaking wet from the heavy rain, outside. Dressed in only a sloppy sweatpants and dark vest. His hair was a mess and his facial expression was expressionless.

"Yeah. It's me." Neal immediately stepped aside. Still confused to see him here.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked softly as he gave him a towel to dry his face and hair. Peter took it but lazily held it in his hand while looking longingly at Neal's bed.

"Erm… Peter? You're going to tell me why you are here? Or do you want me to guess?" Neal asked as he saw the older man still gazing at his unfolded blankets.

"El isn't home tonight. Her flight was canceled. So I took a walk. A long one." His gaze never met Neal's and that scared the crap out of him. "Peter? Are… are you sleepwalking? Are those your p- pajamas?" His mouth fell open as Peter looked at his soaking clothes and nodded quietly.

"It was a long walk. I feel cold. Now I want to sleep here, if I may." And Peter walked over to his bed. Neal didn't dare to stop him and just watch his partner snuggling into his blanked.

"So… Sleepwalking. Really? Look ho's the caretaker now, ha." That came out almost like a laugh. But this wasn't funny.

He knew about that stuff. Mozzie does the same thing, sometimes. But he only stayed in his apartment, pretended on playing chess. Or pouring more invisible whine. That was why the bolt man slept here sometimes. Because in stressed times he needed a night-watch.

"Hmmm Goodnight, Neal…" Peter mumbled content. And he was out like a candle.

For a long time Neal just watched this weird scene. _What was he suppose too do now? _Then something had hit him. He grabbed his phone silently. He should call Elizabeth to tell her Peter wasn't at home in the morning when she finally got home. But… instead of calling her he started to smirk. He took a nice picture of him instead, without regrets of what so ever. This was too freaking funny, anyway. He wanted to send this to Elizabeth with the text:_ "Don't be jealous. But agent Burke just sleepwalked right into my bed. What should I do now?"_

In about one minute he got a respond on that from Jones. Neal blinked in shock! _He accidentally must've sent it to him instead of his wife! O my God!_ Neal read in the response with blushing cheeks of embarrassment. Meanwhile he took his place on to the couch. One hand was holding him mouth.

**_Jones messaged_**_: "Good Luck Neal. I am glad I moved to a different apartment a while ago." _

Oh God…Well… At least he wasn't the one who did the actual awkward part.

End:3 (for real this time!)

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**A/N: Well... I just had a nice writing day I think. made a whole new chapter for you guys:) Even if this story was suppose to be a one-shot. haha. Please tell me what you think! I surely had a lot of fun writing this.**

**X**

**Josie**


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